Whirlwind of Wackiness.

I'm hungover while I'm writing this - so forgive me if it goes astray.

Have you ever lusted after a straight friend? You're good friends, yet you know nothing will ever happen between you two - but deep down inside you want it to happen - because the guy is hot beyond reason.

I have known Mike McCabe for over a year - when I first met him - he was installing light fixtures at my old job when I first arrived in El Paso a year ago. We hit it off quite well - we had the same madcap zany sense of humor. Point was - he was hopelessly heterosexual. At the time he was engaged to some girl - madly in love with her. As a fact, he was quite shocked - he said - to find out that I was queer. He was cool with it, though. He admitted to me that the the act of having sex with men repulsed him - so I never forced the matter.

Over the year we kept in contact by way of meeting on the street, bumping into each other shopping and the such - he invited me to his apartment a couple of times. But it was a usually a brief visit of small talk and good laughter over a couple of beers.

Well, a bad coke habit and a year has passed and he is now alone and struggling living the life of a bachelor and I have brought you up to speed so let me take you to yesterday:

I was at work and it sucked - sitting at Node 39 I told myself, Luis you can do better. And I did. I shut my terminal off and walked out - first stopping to pick up my check it being payday. I called Roberto to give him the news but he seemed to be freaking out over family matters so no sympathy there - I went shopping. Bought a couple of real nice shirts. And I thought. I thought hard about my situation. I really deeply want to return to San Diego to work and save the cash I need for the Costa Rica venture. At least there are more diversions there...

Anyway - later that evening as I was sitting on my balcony downing some Steel Reserve and sucking a Lucky Strike, the big Texas night sky was dark navy blue and awash with stars and I didn't want to drink alone - the depression funk started to hit hard so out of the blue I called Mike McCabe and invited him for beer- but no answer on his end, had to leave a message. Dammit.

Sigh. Really feeling blue - I took a taxi to the porno theater and while I was sucking a quite handsome Mexicans cock, my cellphone rang - it was Mike. I said that I still wanted to come over for drinks, "Sure, c'mon over." The Mexican that I was blowing was quite the looker though - to bad I had to leave, real sweet fella...had helluva cock on him.

But, I digress and I left for Mikes via taxi. Sitting with that hottie and getting drunk in his apartment the jokes flew and we were having a good time and that was until he broke out the porn on his computer. It really turned him on - which of course got me hot. He confessed of getting fucked by a transvestite downtown a few years back and how he had purchased a dildo and randomly screws himself while masturbating.

I love alcohol.

Well, one thing led to another and Mike stripped down to his shorts - I was sitting in his white leather chair adjacent to him. "I took my pants off - why don't you take off yours?" He said coyly.

Not two seconds after I peeled off my black Kenneth Cole slacks he slithered over and started to blow me. It was so crazy - I was rubbing his shaved head thinking - My God! What a life I lead! He whispered that he wanted me to screw him - I lay him back on his futon and fucked him so hard - the look in his green eyes were hot and primal and beautiful - I came in his ass feeling his muscles gripping me squeezing me dry.

After we showered, Mike kept saying - "Wow, that was cool - not bad. I liked it." It was the second time he was ever screwed, I guess. "Don't fall in love with me." He said with a big smile. "Don't flatter yourself." I laughed, lighting a cigarette, "It was only sex."

He leaned back on the futon - staring at the ceiling fan, "Look - I like pussy, okay? Don't think of me any different." He paused and took a drink. "But at least now when I need dick I know who to call."

I'll never say no.

We drank some more - watched Conan O'Brien, and then went to sleep. He slept in the bed and I crashed on the futon - what do you think we are - a couple of fags?

Raining Drunks.

Rain pounds hard and I mean from nowhere baby - like outta some damn Micky Spillane novel. I stand on my balcony, sucking on a Lucky and a whiskey lost in the nights darkness drops bounce up splattering my khakis when my phone rings - "Yeah?"

"What up, fool?"

Ugh - hetro. Still have no clue who it is, so - "Who is this?"

"It's Roberto." Oh yeah - Roberto, that friend from my job who was tricked in screwing the old switcharoo in J-Town (That's Juarez City, south of the border to El Paso to you ignorant fucks.) with the tranny last week. Freaked out, quit his job and high tailed it back to Idaho all the very next day - that Roberto. Well, seems the freaky fucker had since returned and with some friend in tow - and now wants to troll the streets of J-Town. "Nope. No more Juarez for you, kiddo - not after last time. You're cut off. Plus it's raining - and I don't do rain."

"C'mon, man - I wanna show my friend around and if I go by myself I'll get lost." Roberto began to whimper.

Ugh - "Look - by now the fucking city is a vast mud hole with a fine layer of stinking garbage. You wanna trudge around a mudhole?"

Well being a kind hearted faggitto I eventually gave in and so did the rain and an hour later I found myself crossing the International Bridge with said hottie and his rather thuggish and unfortunate looking friend 'Mike'. Damn - the boy was hard on the eyes - like a deformed hairless gorilla albino. Ew.

We sloshed through stinking heaps of feces smelling sewage and taxi drivers all on the hustle to Hollywood Club the best titty bar in lower J-town and sat ordering three sets of cervezas Dos Equis. We sat and drank as up on stage the hoochies jiggle and quivered in all the wrong places. Then the bitches started to slither over. My homosexual genes where screaming to get out and get out now but with iron will I kept my cool as I was pawed and stroked by these diseased she-bitches. The boys had a ball - $250 worth of lap dances later we split. And of course they now were hornier than hell - so it was off to a house of ill repuke.

This one cooze was good - as we walked by a cathouse, this white spandex clad ho sprung outta her trap like a jack in the box onto the side walk in front of us in a lucha libre stance ready for the kill and began her babbling spiel with Roberto that does he wanna come in a bang the bajeebus outta her or is he a fag. Well - after much debate if the bitch was a he/she (remembering his last faux pau) he finally succumbed to the Medusa and paid for her advances and bought Mike a jiggly tart, too.

I sat with the old haggish Mamacita in the foyer sipping on a Pepsi Light - hearing the bed banging and pounding like crazy in Roberto's cubicle - staring at the old wooden door with ravaged disembodied ghostly lust - sat crossed legged on that old leather hotel chair sucking that Lucky so nasty. The whore moaned and Roberto grunted and fifteen or so minutes and a loud sigh later Roberto walks out looking like he just took a shower and I am so pent up with jealous frustration. Fuck!

A few moments pass and that ugly lump of flesh Mike wobbles down the hall buttoning his pants. We all say adios and step out into the dark drizzle and much bravura and back slapping and cigarettes are passed as we walk back to the International Bridge. A short preliminary check against the wall by the police patrol - but they were cool about it - small chit-chat with them, search of pockets and let us move on.

Once stateside we rush back to Roberto's apartment and break open a bottle of Jose Cuervo and start drinking heavy - Roberto takes a quick shower - "I hate that stink of bitch on me." He jokes. I can relate.

The night progresses and the more drunk we get the funnier things start to become. Of course, my flirting gets outta hand - Mike asks if I am a faggot or something - I answer, "Heh - or something."

Eventually, Mike passes out in his bed room and I make my move - on the living room floor to the green light of the stereo hi-fi the classic seduction without boundaries and without scope. What ensued with Roberto, that beautiful Mexican - I haven't been screwed that hard with that much passion since grade school. Next morning - woke up with a hang over and a sore ass. The three of us enjoyed a somewhat stifled breakfast at IHOP. Roberto and I averting glances - he swirling toast crust in his egg yolk - mumbling vowels and consonants. Good coffee, though.

I had to sleep - after breakfast, dropped off at my flat, goodbyes where said and went up to my trap. In the case of Roberto - Prometheus, what?

Node 39.

Work dragged as work will. There is this little pudgy fella Ralph Martinez - black rimmed square glasses and all - kinda cute that sat next to my cubicle today. Not fat - just a little pudgy and it looks cute on him, you know what I'm sayin'? Hit on me pretty obvious and went all coo-coo for coco puffs when I mentioned I used to make movies - YUSTA, Ralph yusta! Key word. Well, chunky invited me for a drink after work and we drove in his Honda Civic down to centro El Paso to the Tool Box - the local fag watering hole and confided that he also makes little movies and wants this Saturday to get together and shoot something. Something. Write a script he says - about what? Well I got three days - I'll come up with something. Jeez!

The booze flowed and ya know how it is with beer you get all mushy and comfortable and the topic of how white guys got bigger penises than Mexicans somehow ended up the main point of drunken conversation - and right here I wanna state that I was not the instigator, okay? Well, anyway - Ralph to prove that I was wrong and just I think he was horny said let's go back to my place in which we did to finish this heated debate.

To the entire CD of Outkast's The Love Below and some of The Best of Prince Vol. 2 - Ralphy and me 69'd with each other and I gotta admit that shorty had some fuckin' dick on 'em - and we took our dear sweet time and did it all nasty like. Sixty-nine is my favorite thing to do. After we both drained ourselves - he and I showered together and lathered each others hairless torsos up - mine pale his dark caramel - and the boy had it in him to bang the bajeebus outta me in my white tiled bath/shower combo. After that we dried and dressed and went to Subway and gobbled some footlong subs. Well, lil' Ralphy had to pop the mood and act all stupid - getting all wishy washy saying we should be boyfriends and that he thinks he is falling in love with me. Play it cool, kid - play it cool. No time for love - plus, I ain't boyfriend material - I am way too fucked up for that. I'm just that kooky friend that you hang with once a week when you want a cheap thrill, ya know?

Thank baby Jesus Ralph had the cajones to accept that - it's only sex. No more - no less. So, we knocked around ideas for a short movie and had a few laughs - the ideas we were rolling far too many to mention here. The night progressed and since both of us had to be up early for work the following morning - I was dropped off at my flat, good nights were exchanged and I retired.

Life is okay. It's shitty sometimes - but it can be okay.

Damn Transexual Cockblockers.

Sigh.

When will I learn.

Okay - several days ago I was at a 7-11 purchasing a carton of orange juice and a pack of Little Debbie's before I had to go to work when I ran into a fellow employee waiting in line behind me. He was also a new hire and in my training class - introduced himself as Roberto. Now, I have had my eye on this guy - I mean there is a lot of eye candy in my class - but this guy was different in some way. Not homo him - definitely hetro - but I was to learn he was not from these parts - he was born and raised in the wilds of Idaho. Idaho - on his fathers ranch. No wonder the guy was built like a brick house - and he had manners - real small town politeness to him. And just a spry twenty one - small town rube. Actually thought El Paso was a big city.

Well, Roberto and I hit it off and after work being his polite self - I was invited to his house yesterday for drinks. I learned that Roberto and his girlfriend and two baby daughters have only been living here in El Paso for three weeks and the poor boy new practically no one. At first Roberto wanted to cruise around El Paso with me, we shot off in his car and somehow wound up at Hooter's for beers. Yeah - Hooter's. I at this time still had not told Roberto that I was special.

So, we sat there drinking three pitchers of Bud and gobbling spicy buffalo wings as the Hooter girls did their stylized ballet throughout the restaurant making every guy in there horny save one - all the while Roberto was getting a buzz going and confiding in me on how much he hated his girlfriend and he wanted to leave her. The alcohol was kicking in my also and - well - the sexual flirtation started and yup, you guessed it - Roberto took it, hook line and sinker.

"Have you ever had sex with a guy?" Inquired I.

"Nah - but, you know, I'll try anything once. Like you said, God put you on this Earth to live, so try experiencing as much as you can - if you like something keep doing it - if you don't - don't. Life is too short. I like your philosophy." He slurred.

However - this guy was quite the pussy whipped - he promise his girl that he would be back in ninety minutes. So, we drove back to his apartment and got plastered on his patio with the help of a case of Steel Reserve and that's some evil shit - and to my surprise - he started to flirt back in the most cutest ways. I think his girlfriend caught on - because all of a sudden her sister invited them to dinner. How convenient. I was driven home (not invited to dinner, family only.) - but Roberto said he would call me later - pealing out, back to pick up the girl and kids.

After eating a can of Ravioli's and conking out - several hours later my cellphone woke me up and Roberto slurred, "I wanna die, dude."

"That's stupid talk, man." I said groggily - stirring outta my drunken sleep the clock read 8:45pm.

"I hate her so much - I gotta get outta here. Can I come over?"

"My door's always open for you, baby boy, you know that."

"Let's go to Juarez - you think fifty dollars is enough to have a good time?"

"More than enough - just bring forty - don't waste your money."

"I'm on my way."

Plan: Get Roberto drunk and seduce him. Case closed.

Twenty minutes later, we are racing to the border - Roberto is so excited for the fact that he has never been to Mexico. Finding parking - we cross the International Bridge and stroll down the main drag that is Juarez Avenue lit up with the neon grotesques of discos and juke-joints. Playing the guide I try to give Roberto the grande tour but the young buck is a kid in a candy store - keeps babbling - "Take me to the whore's - I want some pussy - I gotta have some pussy, now."

"Slow down - don't you wanna look around first?" I keep saying.

We cruise a couple of strip joints - Hollywood's, Virginia's, Fausto's - but the kid was just antsy. So we walked over to the dark and foreboding whore sector and out slithered a prostitute straight from some old French Movie red sequins, fishnets, titanic ta-tas. Roberto nearly came in his baggy jeans - "That one" - Okay, I'll wait here. Standing outside the room, sucking on a Luckie I wonder why would this boy pay money when I would give it for free? Ten minutes - no gotta be less than that! - Roberto stumbles out grabs my arm and mumbles, "Just walk, c'mon - let's go."

Depressed and frustrated, I asked like I have asked a million straight boys before - "Well, how was it?"

"It was a fucking dude!" Robert shook like a leaf. "A motherfucking faggot!"

"Really?" I said without shock. "What did you guys do?"

"Look at me my hands are shaking - I hope I don't have AIDS."

"What did you do?" I repeated, slightly annoyed.

"I fucked it in the ass - but the condom broke. When I pulled my dick out - the condom was ripped - You don't think I will get AIDS do you?"

"You have a better chance at winning the lottery." I assured him - but told him to get checked anyway. Well, that burst the bubble. He was so freaked out kept cursing fags and queers and transvestites under his breath - Roberto just wanted to go back home - on the drive back he just kept mumbling about "I hope that thing didn't give me anything - Oh God - I'll hunt it down and kill it if it it did."

Sigh.

Dropping me off at home - said goodnight and goodluck see you at work Monday and all that jazz - and went to my flat. The poor kid is now scarred for life - another homophobic asshole created by some monstrous tranny. Fixed me a martini and settled down to watch Todd Browning's Freaks playing on cable. Perfect - gooble gobble.

Underground Art Films

I was asked recently what type of films and who influenced my creative impulses. I thought about it - because I really haven't for awhile. Luckily, I had the fortune of finding a few of the short films that I saw when I was a teenager that had open my eyes to independent cinema and away from mainstream Hollywood. I hope you enjoy them as much as I had and still do...

Towers Open Fire by William S. Burroughs

The master! The one and only father of the Beat Generation - the sole literary author that I have based my writing technique on. In 1963, in France and Tangiers Burroughs and others got together and made Towers Open Fire - this film alone set my mind in motion - this film alone made me want to make films in the same way Burrough's writing led me to write. This film is my favorite of all short underground art films. Enjoy. You will notice the dialogue is very similar to my writing style - it is no coincidence...

Andy Warhol

For a time any film made by Andy Warhol intrigued me - I sat for eight hours in a dark theater and watched Empire State Building - sat through fifteen minutes of Blow Job - bought the Velvet Underground albums - I was hooked.

Fireworks by Kenneth Anger

In 1947, a young Kenneth Anger starred in his first homoerotic opus that caused a national scandal and caused him to be exiled from the United States. He would later return in 1963 to film Scorpio Rising among other films - but he will always be remembered for the groundbreaking - Fireworks. When I first saw this, I was 14 years old and it would get me so excited - no wonder I am so screwed up...

Rabbit's Moon by Kenneth Anger

One of the early silents done by the great gay filmmaker Kenneth Anger. A great influence on me during my days in film school. I still enjoy watching this - and the song is catchy...

Pink Narcissus

An underground film from the days of Andy Warhol - it is the for runner of porn as we no it. This film broke all censorship barriers and paved the way for filmmakers to express liberally thier vision on the screen. This is the sole surviving clip.

High Jinx.

The stage is set - the curtain has been drawn and the drama will begin to unfold.

I started my new job today with a myriad of mixed emotions. Firstly, I hafta keep this thing for two years if I am going to achieve my goal - and there lies the problem. In all my years I have never held a job more than six months - but I am trying to change - become more responsible - more like you.

Well, woke up before the tequila side of sunrise - the bluebirds hadn't even had a chance to brush their teeth yet - damn, can't remember the last time I had woken up at 5:30am. Showered and attended my morning grooming. Outside as the sun crept over the horizon, I stood there blinking like turtle in the sun. Bus rumbled by - got on - went to work with the housekeepers and waiters.

My job is quite simple - I take orders for a major clothing chain from their catalog - nation wide orders - good pay. Mostly women - and the few guys that did attend the orientation were really handsome, especially this tall hunka flesh named Eber. God he was hot - and he was working those tight slacks - not only a perfect ass but that boy had a box that didn't leave much to the imagination. I had the fortune of having this tall hottie sitting next to me at the training computers all day and -yup- the flirting powers where set on high maximum.

After work, Eber and I drove for ice coffee at Starbuck's and chatted but since he had a second job - he dropped me off at my apartment and split. Grrrjsss! Changing out of my corporate drag, I whipped me up a Cesars salad for dinner and then hit downtown to see what was what - ran into my Nigress in crime Suevon Moncrief, and she was on a Weed Hunt. So - along with her pal Fabian, part-time homo, we returned to my apartment building because it is notorious for the marijuana and such paraphernalia. Securing a bag we lounged at my pad - smokin' dope and watchin' Star Wars - the one with Luke Skywalker, fuck that Annikin shit! - and got fairly high and drunk the three of us wacky kids laughing and smoking our cares away...

Eleven o'clock rolled around and I gave Suevon and Fabian the boot - ironed my clothes the best I could - I was rather toasted - and crashed. Well, at least they don't drug test at this job...

Funny.

Ugly American.

Rain comes down hard - so I stand out in the drizzle shivering in someone else's overcoat smoking a Lucky - the computer lab is closed and it is Saturday in this dumpy town and I am broke. So, I am standing there and make with the casual converse with some cat named Lance who feels it is necessary to blurt - I'm gay, by the way - like I fucking care.

So - without further ado we dash around puddles to his house and watch the most godawful porn imaginable - guess he was trying to seduce me - or vice versa - after a long discussion on my life and times in Juarez and Tijuana Lance is enticed into spending the Saturday nite in Juarez. So - a bus is boarded and after we travel to pick up Lance's paycheck - "Don't worry, Luis - you be my guide - and I'll pay for everything. Just don't leave me stranded down there!"

Natch! Clouds burst heavy rain as we ready ourselves and grace with a let up long enough for Lance and I to hump over the International Bridge and slopping through those sad mud streets to the great rain splattered Guadalupe Cathedral. I was stabbed in the stomach with pangs of nostalgia and wanton as we waited for perhaps my old friends to arrive - Alfredo, Ignacio, Enrique - where for art thou? It would have been a pleasure for it hadn't been that Lance was the most yakkity obnoxious faggot I had ever come to meet in many a moon. Shut up awready!

To alleviate this motor mouth - we jet over to Bar Buen Tiempo where nary a friend can be found - so I suggest perhaps Bar Callatias. Slopping through mud - we find sprinkling of said friends - Pablo, Manuel and Lazo. But Lance - fucking pedophile - wants to go where the tweeny boppers are. Ugh. I try to make nice with my old bitches, was actually having a gay old time with Pablo and Manuel - but Lance plays the Ugly American and we just cut so I can save face.

Trod over to Fag Central - Ritz, Olympico, Albatross, Bananas - an assortment of faggoty dancaterias. We sit in one of the swankier ones and we drink many a cerveza sol and Lance gets drunker and drunker and talks more and more and the annoyance level reaches the breaking point. So Captain Pedophile wants an even younger crowd - he slurs - okay, let's hit el Madalon - can't get any younger than that.

Outside the dark clouds have burst and unleashed their torment. Rain pours hard so we jot into Olympico with some obese fairy that has hooked Lance on the street - I have had about enough. When will this goofball pass out? Loud - drunk - obnoxious - goofy. Why did I agree to this?

Luckily we agree to run in the rain to the Ritz next door - my chi was off. I have had it. Told the goofy fuck let's separate and walk around. That was my undoing - asshole took off. Split - left me in the lurch. When the club closed - I stood out in the pouring rain waiting for him to come out and he never did.

Ugh.

So - sloshing through the neon storm back across international boundaries I strode up to Plaza San Jacinto - it being three in the morning and knowing full well the buses in this shitty burg didn't start to run until eight Sunday morning. The only other soul was a ex-con cholo standing under an awning that I new that sold dope in the park - his name was David. Both stuck - we agreed. If we can get a ride, you can crash at my house - the offer platonic you unnerstand. Taking refuge in a Holiday Inn - I called an old friend who dispatched for Yellow Cab and pulling strings gotta free ride to my trap - David in tow.

Once back at my pad - hot cuppa joe was made, porn was put in the DVD - cuz I'm one smooth cat - and David and I warmed each other up. After a pretty smooth make out session we crashed to sleep...

I will never go to Juarez with an American again.